The Crimson Rose, a Twilight Fan Fiction
by Adam Ehrlich
Summary: Vincent has been a victim of bad relationships and lead a horribly boring life since he graduated high school. However on the night of his nineteenth birthday, his life is thrown amidst one of the oldest horrors the world has ever known.
1. Chapter One: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I never put much stock in birthdays. I mean the last birthday party I had was when I was thirteen, which had come to an abrupt end when the cops showed up to arrest the magician my mom hired; I never really found out why. Needless to say, the last five birthdays had passed rather uneventfully. So when that fateful day in April came around again, I didn't think much of it.

Little did I know that night would change my life forever.

I jolted awake at the annoying sound of my alarm going off. It rang like an ambulance siren, a dreaded wake up call I got to look forward to every morning. I had tried to go to bed earlier and earlier each night in the slightest hope that I would wake up before the horrible alarm, sadly I had yet to meet with any success in that department.

I quickly slapped my hand atop the beeping clock, frantically searching for the off button while at the same time blinking the sleep from my eyes.

It was going to be another one of those days.

I got up and stumbled across my one room apartment to the answering machine on the coffee table. The blinking red light signifying new messages did nothing but make me feel worse than I already did.

My messages were _always_ bad news.

I hit the play button and sauntered around the room, grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet while I collected my clothes for work. Right when I ripped away the silver foil hiding my breakfast, a man with a raspy voice came on the answering machine.

"_Vinnie_," I sighed at hearing the short version of my name. "_The rent was due last week; don't make me come down there and--"_

"Oops," I said aloud as I hit the skip button.

The next message was a familiar feminine voice, though I was certain the news would hardly be important.

"_Vinnie_," I didn't bother sighing this time. "_Darling, happy birthday sweet heart! You're nineteen years old big boy! Have you signed up for college yet? Why don't you find yourself a nice girl! Love you!"_

"End of messages," the answering machine announced shortly after.

I could answer my mom's questions the minute I heard them. I wasn't in college because I didn't have the money to pay for tuition, because I was stuck making minimum wage as a coffee shop cashier while my parents were sailing the Caribbean on the newest cruise liner. I still wasn't sure how that one worked out.

My mom always talked like finding a girl was the easiest thing in the world, and I guess she's right, if you're looking for _any_ girl.

I was one to talk, my past three relationships hadn't lasted more than a few days. They all seemed so innocent at first, so… convenient. It's probably me being too picky, but I could never have seen those relationships lasting any longer then they did.

The first after high school was Kate. Kate was that high school actress that marveled at her own talent. Of course this included her purposefully creating dramatic situations between us so that she could use her favorite movie lines in her own life. That ended when she saw her favorite actress use an "absolutely astounding" breakup line (according to her) in the latest chick flick and wanted desperately to try it on me.

I already knew where that ship was headed.

Jane was the second, a yoga instructor from a little studio downtown. I had taken yoga because I'd heard it was suppose to be an "internal massage for the central nervous system", whatever that means. That relationship lasted a whole three hours when I walked in on her practicing breathing exercises. The next thing I knew she was shouting about me breaking her mental concentration and I was quickly shooed out the door.

The last was Tricia. Now Tricia was studying to be a dietician. She was gorgeous; a fine complexion with luscious brunette curls. Imagine my surprise when on our first date she tallied up everything I'd eaten, was utterly appalled at my "score", and told me how she couldn't be with someone who was going to be overweight in five years.

That was that.

I slipped on the featureless black t-shirt we were required to wear for work, chased the granola bar with a glass of milk, and grabbed my keys as I headed out the door.

As I locked both locks on the door and moved down the halls of the apartment complex, I began to wonder how many things could possibly go wrong today. It was my birthday after all, it seemed like the holiday for bad occurrences.

I entered the parking garage and walked down the lanes, passing dozens of cars none of which belonged to me. I didn't have enough money to buy a car. What I _could_ afford was the 4-stroke Centro 50 Blue moped that waited patiently for me in my parking space.

The small motor growled in protest as I attempted several times to kick-start the small scooter. I'd grown annoyed by the metallic whine the gears made when the thing was running, however it was the only sound I wanted to hear right now. If I didn't get it started soon, I'd be late to work. I supposed it was only fitting fortoday's special occasion.

When I did finally get the thing started, I sped off in the direction of the coffee shop downtown. Traffic was busy, as usual, and the wind blew my neck length sand-colored hair every which way since I opted not to wear my helmet for the millionth time. I knew I'd probably regret that some day but I didn't really care. I'd almost prefer that something bad happen, anything to suddenly interrupt this horribly repetitious life I lived.

After parking my fabulous vehicle around the corner, I all but sprinted in the employee entrance. Inside the coffee shop all seemed as I expected it to be. A few students sat quietly by themselves, sipping at their delicious frappucinos and surfing the web on their laptops.

"Vincent! Do you have any idea what time it is?" a voice called from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

At least she got my name right, I thought to myself.

"Eight-oh-two," I nearly stuttered as I quickly glanced at my watch and turned around. There stood my boss, all two hundred and forty-five pounds of her. At this distance she seemed imposing, like she was towering over me.

She turned her face up into a scowl and I could tell from the giant intake of air she took in that her next retort would be a long one.

"Your shift begins at eight! If I wanted you in at eight-oh-two, I would have scheduled you at eight-oh-two! Poor Candace here had to stay after just to wait for _you_!" she fumed, throwing all her remaining breath into the final word. Her face was a rosy red and I found myself wondering if she was that color all the time and I'd just missed it entirely.

I placed a hand on my chest in an attempt to accept the blame. "I am really sorry Ms. Ruther," I apologized. "It was completely my fault and it won't happen again," I looked to Candace behind the register and I could tell that she didn't mind waiting the extra two minutes it took me to get here. "Candace I'm really sorry you had to stay and I'll make it up to you anyway I can," I said, hoping she would take me up on the offer. I also hoped that she hadn't caught the hint of desperation in my voice.

Ms. Ruther opened her mouth wide to send forth another stream of disappointments, however Candace spoke first. "Aww, it's no problem! Bye bye Vince! See you Tuesday!" she called out cheerfully just before she headed out the door.

It didn't even bother me that she hadn't used my full name. What _did_ bother me was that at that moment I realized I hadn't brushed my teeth this morning, something that _never_ happened. Yet another flaw I hoped she didn't notice.

I kept that last image of her in my head as she departed. Candace was definitely that attractive punk rocker girl. She was slim, had raven black hair tied into a bun, and her wrists were covered with an assortment of bracelets and wristbands. Her pale complexion didn't cause her any problems in the beauty department, just heightened her appearance. She loved to wear pink and black and her joyful mood never seemed to waver, no matter where she was or who was around her.

The roaring engine and blaring rock music outside signaled the arrival of her boyfriend, no doubt picking her up from work.

I sighed, just another day.

Ms. Ruther turned her scrutinizing gaze on me, as if looking for something else to yell about. I quickly threw my apron on and took my place behind the counter, hoping that I could go with as few screw-ups as possible today.

Once I was at the register, I felt comfortable. The guests rolled in through their lunch breaks and I added their orders effortlessly. My right hand moved in a blur across the keys, getting customers through in record time. I could do all the math in my head before the machine ever registered the solution to the eighteen-item receipt the current customer had. At least I was good at it, which was a statement I could say about very few things in my life.

"Hey Vinnie!" the next customer announced as he came to the register. I recognized the voice immediately.

"Hey _Roggie_," I answered back, putting emphasis on the horrible way I'd found to butcher Roger's name in a manner akin to the way people shortened mine. I realized how stupid it sounded the moment it left my lips.

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing, can I offer you a sweet roll with your mochaccino this afternoon?"

I don't even think he heard me, busy as he was adjusting the gelled spikes of his dark hair. His lanky build made him look all the more out of place in that leather jacket he wore.

"Roger."

"Hmm? No this is fine. Hey it's your birthday isn't it?"

I sighed. "Only for another eleven hours."

"Great! That new club opens tonight, we're definitely celebrating!" he crowed loudly, slapping his hand on the counter for emphasis.

I could practically feel the frustration emanating from the other customers, waiting impatiently as Roger held up the line.

"I can't Roger, I'm busy," I lied.

Roger threw me a doubtful look. "Is that so?" he said, emphasizing each word.

"Yes, your total is four twenty-four."

He put on a skeptical expression and handed me a five-dollar bill, to which I already had the change ready for.

"Seventy-six cents is your change, thank you, have a good day."

As I dropped the coins into his palm, he suddenly stared off into space and flipped his hand over, sending the change bouncing across the floor below him.

"Oh no, look what I've done," he said sarcastically as he bent down and began to gingerly pick up the currency one coin at a time. The old lady waiting in line behind him rolled her eyes and checked her watch for what seemed like the fifteenth time. Her glare in my direction told me that she was holding me responsible for the current predicament.

I threw aside my kind employee façade and leaned over the counter. "Roger would you hurry up! You're gonna get me fired," I spoke in a hushed tone.

Roger's eyes lit up as his head peeked over the desk. "Birthday madness tonight?"

"No," I said through nearly clenched teeth.

"Oh look, I think I missed one," he said in the same sarcastic voice, bending down to search for more coins.

"Ok Roger! I'll go! Just get out of here!"

Roger grinned one last time and swept his hands toward me, politely gesturing for the old woman to take her turn at the counter before he ventured back outside.

The bell that signified his exit was a sound of relief, however like all relief with me it was very short lived. I felt Ms. Ruther's penetrating gaze boring a hole in the back of my head.

"Vincent! Did you just send a customer away?" she demanded, nearly enraged.

I sighed, this birthday was getting better and better.

After work I'd went to the yoga studio like I usually do, only to find out that Jane had sold her practice. I knew she'd been trying to do it for a long time, however I never thought anyone would want the place, located as it was in an inconvenient section of town.

Now that I wasn't going to be moving through balanced postures named after animals and inanimate objects for an hour, I decided I could head home and spend the time thinking of a reason I could blow off this whole birthday thing tonight. I really didn't like clubs, especially if it was opening night. There was something about being crammed between a mob of people that didn't appeal to me, not to mention the music blared so loud that I wouldn't be able to hear myself think let alone make out any particular conversation.

I entertained the thought of staging things at my apartment to look like someone had broken in, thinking that to be a fitting excuse for staying in tonight. I didn't have time to think that the idea was way over the top, though, because the brooding clouds above suddenly interrupted my thought process. Rain came down in heavy sheets throughout the city, with the clouds looking only darker in the direction I headed.

I hated my birthdays.

I walked through the apartment complex absolutely soaked, eager to reach my door so that I could shed the drenched clothing that clung to my body. Tiny shivers played down my spine as I fumbled with the keys, sending my teeth chattering as I unlocked the door and threw it open.

The shivering made removing the clothing take some effort, however soon I had them soaring through the air into the hamper as I hurried to the shower. I turned the hot water on as high as it would go and jumped in, hardly able to contain the relief the hot water would bring.

The pipes behind the porcelain tiles groaned and then the water shut off completely.

My shoulders slumped in helpless resignation; unable to believe the course my birthday was taking. Why not just strike me with a meteor? I thought to myself. I would almost prefer that over enduring the rest of this terrible day.

I jerked the sliding door of the shower opened, wrapped a towel around my waist, and headed back into the entry room.

Frustration was clear on my face as I tried the other faucets in the apartment. I could only guess that the landlord had shut the water off, since it seemed like horrible timing if it had done it on its own. Though on a day like today it certainly seemed possible.

I passed the fully body mirror and took a look at myself. I looked pale, whiter than usual, which was never a good thing. Candace seemed to be the only one that could pull off the whole pale complexion thing with any success.

I gingerly prodded the small muscles that emerged from my whopping one hundred and forty-three pound frame. No doubt a result from the yoga I dragged myself to each day.

"An internal massage for the central nervous system," I muttered sarcastically in my best yoga instructor voice.

I brushed my teeth with the aid of a bottle of water from the fridge, which I half expected to stop working soon, along with everything else that depended on electricity.

The door banged open loud behind me, forcing me to nearly choke on my toothbrush. I turned around to see Roger in the doorway as the door flew open to hit the wall on its side. It was only then that I realized I hadn't locked the door, something I also _never_ do.

"Are you ready to rock!?" Roger roared in absolute glee. He looked like some type of modern version of a greaser from the fifties, with his white t-shirt and blue jeans. I even caught the glint of a gold chain around his neck.

I looked around for a minute, weighing my options. "I still need to shower," I pointed out.

He arched an eyebrow as he looked at me half drenched with nothing but a towel around my waist.

I knew it'd be pointless explaining, so instead I moved on to my alibi. "I… umm… someone…" I stammered, attempting to play off my breaking and entering excuse but failing horribly.

Roger arched both eyebrows this time, his forehead creasing in confusion as if he was truly trying to put something together out of that sentence.

"Never mind," I sighed. "Lemme grab some clothes."

The ride through the rain wasn't that bad in Roger's 2004 Honda Civic. Everything seemed to work fine, the car clean enough, which of course led me to wonder how he had acquired such a vehicle.

"It's a hand-me-down," Roger spoke aloud, as if reading my thoughts. "From my grandfather."

I immediately felt bad for thinking wrongly of him. "I'm sorry, how did he pass away?" I asked sincerely.

His face scrunched up like I'd just asked him if cows fly. "He didn't die dude, he bought the new model."

I sank back in my seat, feeling like an idiot once again. It would be hard enough for me to remain composed in this new nightclub and I couldn't even manage to do it in the car. I searched my head for questions that would keep me occupied.

"So what's this place called?" I asked.

"The Crimson Rose," Roger answered in his best movie announcer impersonation.

"Sounds like some kind of dark, romance film," I added as I put the pieces together.

Roger laughed loudly. "Well it'll be dark inside… and there's sure to be _plenty_ of romance!" he said, putting emphasis on the quantifying word.

I couldn't even fake a laugh at his horrible attempt at a sly form of humor. If this was a glimpse at how the night was going to be, I didn't know how I would be able to survive.

It took forever to find a parking space in the vast lot, seeming like everyone in the city was rushing to check out the newest establishment. With an extreme amount of luck however, we managed to get a spot very close to the entrance, taking the place of an old woman who had parked there to get groceries from the store next door.

Guess everything couldn't go wrong after all.

"I need you to be my wingman," Roger said under his breath.

I was wrong.

"What?" I asked incredulously, thinking for sure that I'd heard him incorrectly.

Roger was in the middle of spraying himself with a variety of colognes. "Don't worry about it man, I'll find a good pair."

I couldn't believe I was actually hearing this. "Are you serious? Are you kidding me right now? It's my _birthday_," I said, as if today's special occasion should have any significance.

"Which is why _I'm_ gonna do all the work. Relax big guy, I've got it covered," he answered back, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I sighed once again, the expression that seemed to be repeating itself over and over. I actually wondered how many more times it would happen before the stroke of midnight, the time when I could finally say that this day was officially over.

The trip inside was just as bad as I expected it to be. I was charged twenty dollars just to walk into the place, where I promptly had a neon stamp pressed onto the back of my hand, signifying to the bartender and everyone else in the place that I was under twenty-one.

I tried to keep up with Roger as he slipped through the massive crowd of college students, which proved to be utterly futile. I shouted his name a couple of times after I'd lost sight of him, however I couldn't even hear the words myself over the techno beat that had everyone on the floor going crazy.

My head begun to spin as I pushed my way through the crowd, looking for a place of reprieve as multicolored lights flashed by one after another. I felt almost claustrophobic in here, like I couldn't breathe. It was like the room had a finite amount of oxygen and was quickly running out.

It wasn't until I reached the bar that I found an opening, a place where I could lift my arms without touching someone else. I savored the opportunity, taking a moment to relax and steady my breathing.

I took a look at the view of the dance floor from this angle. There were no familiar faces, just a sea of unknown people, which I guessed might be a good thing. If I made a complete fool of myself at some point tonight, no one would be able to bring it up in the near future.

"Hey Vince!" a familiar voice called.

So much for that assumption.

"Hey," I called back to Candace, quickly trying to hide the flaws in my wardrobe. I dropped my left hand to cover the bleach spot on my red dress shirt just above my left hip. My right arm went across my stomach to wrap around my side, hiding the missing black button that I'm sure no one noticed but me.

Even in her fishnet sleeves, black leather pants, and studded jewelry, she looked gorgeous; like she could get away with wearing anything you threw at her and still pull it off. More than that, it was like what she wore didn't matter, that as long as she remained her self then everything was great.

She moved forward and hugged me, an embrace I was more than willing to accept. Some sort of breathtaking fragrance wafted off of her ever so slightly, making the hug even more worth it.

Her face was adorned with her usual smile, white teeth sparkling as she slid me back to an arms length and held out a hand towards her date. "This is my boyfriend Jake!"

I offered him a half smile as I shook his offered hand, trying hard to hide my jealousy. In truth, he didn't seem like a bad guy. I mean he was definitely her type, probably was in a band of his own somewhere. His dark hair was buzzed to half an inch in length and he wore clothing that supported bands I'd never heard of, though I wasn't too knowledgeable in the music department.

"So, Vince," Candace started, her voice immediately grabbing my attention. "Did you come here alone? I didn't take you for the club type."

"Ye—"

"Vinnie, buddy! Where you been?" Roger interrupted. One look at Candace however had his expression changed. He tapped one foot as he waited impatiently to be introduced.

I sighed, adding another tally to my mental tracking sheet. "Candace this is Roger. Roger, Candace."

Roger dipped into a bow like he was from the eighteenth century. "Vinnie didn't tell me he knew a princess!" he called loudly over the techno music.

Candace chuckled softly, keeping her smile through it all. "We have to go, Jake's due on stage soon. Bye Vince!" she called out as her date led her towards the stage.

"Where'd you meet _that_ hottie?" Roger shouted in my ear just as the music slowed to a halt.

I looked up to see the DJ rotating CD's and switching cords. "Any luck with your romantic search?" I asked, more interested in ignoring his question than any answer he'd give.

The ploy worked. "I saw a few that were eyeing me, just waiting to reel 'em in!" he said, actually miming a fishing reel as he laughed.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that there was absolutely nothing else I could take from this night. I had gotten to see Candace at least, allowing me to grab another image of her to store away in my mental gallery.

I should just leave, I thought to myself. I knew there was no way I'd be able to drag Roger from the scene, small as his chances were at accomplishing his goal. The walk home shouldn't take _too_ long; I just hoped it wasn't raining outside.

"You look nervous," a voice whispered in my ear.

I nearly jumped, startled by the sudden closeness of someone next to me. Her voice was like honey, soothing and surreal.  
Too many things flooded to catch up with my train of thought. The music had started again, Roger was no where to be seen, and I was hearing voices now, a mental condition that could be added to the pile of bad things today had already rained upon me.

I turned to my right and this time I _did_ jump. Just inches from my face stood the single most attractive women I'd ever seen. Forget what I'd said about Candace being the only one able to pull off a pale complexion, this woman did it beyond the bounds I'd thought possible. The flashing lights above gleamed off her snow-white skin. A long, sparkling red dress adhered to every contour of her perfect body, slit up one side to reveal her shapely legs. Long red hair floated down passed her shoulders; so vibrant in color that it matched her dress. All this and yet the thing that drew me in the most were her eyes, those rich red eyes. Eyes that left me entranced, spellbound by their gaze that spoke of absolute desire. Here was the girl that artists painted in their dreams, the one that didn't actually exist.

"Breathe," she purred with a hint of an accent.

I shook the confusion from my head and took in a deep breath, then turned around to look for whom she must be talking to.  
Of course she had an accent, I thought to myself as I looked the other way. Accents were an inherent weakness for me when it dealt with speaking to women. Like she needed it, I would have been just as enthralled if she hadn't spoken at all.

When I turned back in her direction she was up against me, her fingertips dancing playfully across my chest. Every muscle in my body went rigid at her touch, still trying to deal with the fact that she had actually been addressing me this whole time.

Her eyes looked me over in an appraising manner and the corners of her full red lips turned up into an irresistible smile. "Tell me your name," she cooed in an Italian accent.

Italian! The one accent that I'd personally rated more irresistible than all the rest. I didn't know how to keep from shaking. I couldn't even hear the music anymore, couldn't even see the dozens of eyes who had their eyes locked on me, all silently wondering what in the world she saw in me.

"Vin…cent," I stuttered, hardly able to force the words out.

Her hand slid up my neck and through my hair, gently pulling my forehead down to hers. "Ahh, my Vincent," she said, pulling her lips a fraction of an inch closer to mine. I didn't miss her use of the personal pronoun as her cool breath sent chills down my spine.

It was then that I noticed that she was, indeed, _cold_. I could feel the chill emanating from beneath her dress, from the hand that grasped the back of my head with a tenacious hold.

Before I could ponder that thought any further though, her lips suddenly found mine as she pulled me closer. I nearly swooned. My whole world spun as her perfect lips caressed mine in a seductive manner.

I slid one hand to the back of her head and the other to her waist as I attempted to match her passion, pulling her close and shivering the whole way through.  
She smiled and ran her lips up my neck, inhaling in a sound of sheer ecstasy as her mouth reached my ear. "Are you cold? My Vincent?" she teased, playfully nibbling on my earlobe.

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. I didn't know how else to respond. By all rights I should be roasting in a room with over a hundred people, yet holding her was like hugging an ice sculpture.

"Come with me," she murmured, taking my hand and guiding me to the spiral staircase at the back wall.

The crowd parted before her as she glided forward with an otherworldly grace. Every step seemed perfect, as if each had been preplanned in some grand design. Yet her beauty never faltered, not in her walk up the stairs, not even when she had me against the door at the top.

This woman obviously had some power of authority around here. The bouncer at the top of the stairs didn't make one move to stop her, didn't even look at me as she towed me passed him. I wondered how many other guests of the club had been admitted to this rather private area of the establishment.

This night had completely taken me by surprise. I would have never in a million years expected anything like this, like _her_, to approach me on any day, let alone my birthday. It was so unconceivable, that I half-expected a camera crew to come flying out of a fake wall to announce some new reality television series.

"What's your name?" I managed to ask after she led us into a private room and shut the door.

She smiled and shoved me up against the wall. "Natasha," she spoke through a smile. Her fingers slipped inside the buttons of my shirt.

"Well Natasha, what brings you to a big city like this?" I said, stupidly trying to make small talk during one of the most nervous moments in my life.

She ripped my shirt open, sending the remaining black buttons shooting in random directions. "You," she purred as she settled her ear against my chest. I could feel my heart rate accelerating, so I could only imagine how it must sound to her right now, pounding away behind my rib cage.

Now I knew I must be dreaming.

I thought she might laugh at my nervousness, maybe even forget the ordeal altogether. I was beyond the thought of knowing this was too good to be true. However, I knew that something definitely wasn't right. How does a coffee cashier end up in the private bedroom on the second floor of the newest nightclub in town? I wondered.

As if she could sense my hesitation, she pulled me away from the wall and wrapped her legs around my waist in a cold iron embrace. Her lips squeezed against mine, silencing my thoughts before they could make their way back to the forefront of my mind. I felt completely powerless in that hold; like no matter how hard I tried I wouldn't be able to escape.

I slowly walked her to the giant bed that took up the center of the room and set her down, trying to keep my lips moving with hers. She craned my neck back and ran her lips up it once again, savoring the moment like some irresistible scent coated my skin.

I could feel the blood course faster through my neck as my heart raced. She smiled wide and placed her open mouth right a top the pulsing vein. I felt each row of teeth settle into place and then her tongue taste the surface of my skin.

The sound of my pounding heart coupled with the muffled techno music blocked out any other noise I might have heard. However I could _feel_ the low growl from the bottom of her throat, a feral snarl acting as the precursor of some sinister reality.

This was the best birthday I'd ever had; I could only hope to have more like it.

Oh how wrong I was.


	2. Chapter Two: A One Way Street

A repeated knock banged loudly on the door to our room, causing Natasha to remove her mouth from my neck as her head spun towards the noise. She bared her teeth and hissed like a desert viper. Her hold on me tightened drastically, seemingly out of frustration and to such a degree that I thought my bones might start to give way.

Did she just hiss? I thought to myself.

The door opened quickly to admit the bouncer that had been outside. I hadn't noticed before, but he shared the same pale complexion as Natasha, even the same red eyes. I entertained the thought of it being her brother, however if it was I hoped that the image of her and I on the bed didn't upset the muscle bound brute.

"We have a problem," the bouncer announced, however he did seem apologetic for interrupting what may have been going on between Natasha and I.

Little did I know, Natasha and I were thinking of two very different things.

Natasha turned back to me and relaxed her tenacious hold. The corners of her red lips turned up into that irresistible smile once again, drawing me in deeper and deeper into her overwhelming beauty.

"Wait right here, my Vincent," she spoke through her smile, offering a parting wink as she exited the room.

When the door closed I lightly chuckled to myself, still unable to believe the whole situation. I was here, sitting on this bed, placed here by the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and that included any of those Hollywood stars out there.

I took off my shirt for her inevitable return (not that it was much use without buttons anyway) and ran my hands up and down my arms for warmth. I had warmed up considerably since Natasha had left, but I hadn't quite reached the normal comfort temperature that I was used to at times when I wasn't kissing an ice queen.

The door creaked open and I immediately leaned back, propping myself up with both hands behind me and trying to look as presentable as possible.

Roger's head peaked into the room. "Dude where have you been?" he asked.

My thoughts exploded into absolute outrage. "How did you—would you get out of here!"

"Dude, we should probably leave," Roger stated.

"No, _I_ should wait right here, _you_ should probably leave," I retorted.

If what I was saying affected Roger at all, he didn't show it. "Apparently someone saw something that sent everyone into a ruckus down there," he said as he rolled his eyes. "That's the only reason I was able to make it up here."

"Someone saw what?"

Roger sighed. "I didn't really stick around to get the scoop man. All I know is that some chick got bit by some dude and freaked out like she was being burned at the stake or something. Talk about being kinky eh?"

"W—wait, what?" I asked incredulously, making sure I had heard correctly.

"I know right? She must have been like 'Oh my God! It's Dracula in Seattle!'" Roger giggled, mocking the dialogue in his high-pitched interpretation of a female voice.

I stared back at him with an expression that showed no amusement, hardly seeing the humor in his joke.

Roger's smile faded when he finally realized that he wasn't going to get the reaction he intended. "So yeah, we should probably go," he spoke, as if suddenly remembering why he was there. "People were talking about calling the cops or something."

I could not believe the turn of events. Why was it that anytime something good happened in my life it had to be brought to an abrupt end by something over which I had no control?

My shoulders slumped, unable to refute the logic of his latest statement. The arrival of the police meant this club would be emptied out, ending anything I had going on. Part of me wanted to tell Natasha that I was leaving, all in the faint hope that she would want to see me again. It was then that I realized the futility of that hope, for I remembered that she was a person of some authority here in this club and that she'd no doubt have a situation to deal with once the police arrived.

I sighed. "Lets go."

We made it down the stairs without being stopped, busy as the club employees were dealing with the mass of people trying to get out before the police arrived. I had put my dress shirt back on, wrapping it tight around my body from the lack of buttons. My appearance didn't seem to be a concern to me at the moment, not like it had when we arrived, which was probably because no girl here could even compare to Natasha and she seemed to see something in me that certainly had nothing to do with my appearance.

Getting to the car didn't seem to be a problem, however getting out of the parking lot certainly was. People filled the lot, all making their way to their vehicles or aligning their cars behind the long lines that were forming to exit the club property. It took us thirty minutes to travel the fifteen feet needed to get out of the parking lot and onto the main road, which was mainly because one guy rear ended another and each thought it was the others fault.

The ride back was pretty uneventful. Roger never stopped talking about the dozens of gorgeous girls he'd spotted at the club that evening, assuring me that they'd all come flocking his way the next time we went out.

The next time… would there indeed be a next time? Part of me thought it was completely ridiculous, why would I ever go back to something I tried so hard to avoid? Yet, how could I deny my experience there? Natasha, an Italian red head of other-worldly beauty, had brought my life away from its horribly repetitious routine, had inched me closer and closer to an excitement that had always been absent in my life.

I looked back to Roger and nodded, agreeing absent-mindedly to whatever question or comment he had just made.

My thoughts continued to hold my attention. There had to be a reason, I thought to myself, something that spurred Natasha to my side that evening. I searched my head, looking for an answer, something that would justify her actions. Maybe I was just her type? I mean I'd always heard that each girl has her type, no matter how outlandish that type might be.

Perhaps she just picked a new guy each night, caught up in a lustful drive in a country foreign to her and on whatever mind-affecting drugs or alcoholic drinks that were common in her crowd. Maybe I just wasn't significant to her at all.

Yes, I told myself, that had to be it.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't even noticed that we had arrived at my place. The Honda Civic rolled to a halt in the parking garage outside my apartment complex.

"Well Roger, it was fun," I said as I climbed out of the car.

Roger chuckled loudly. "It sure was wasn't it? Hey just wait till next year."

I put on half a smile and nodded. I didn't want to think of next year.

I headed through the garage to the apartment building interior. The door to the inner complex was propped open by the evening janitor as he went about his nightly routine. I nodded knowingly to him, expecting this very man to be here at this hour. I rarely came home this late, usually after a family holiday gathering or something, but every time I did the same man was always here, cleaning the doormats and vacuuming the halls.

I got to my door and stopped, feeling a presence behind me. I peered over my shoulder to see Roger waiting patiently, looking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Don't you need to be getting home?" I asked him, confused as to why he'd followed me in.

Roger's face twisted in confusion, an expression that seemed a trademark for him. "Dude you told me I could stay over."

"I what?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah dude, in the car, remember?"

In that first contemplative moment I was truly clueless, but only for that first moment, for it was then that I remembered his question that I nodded to in the car, the one I didn't think anything of.

I stopped myself before I could sigh, I was so sick of sighing, I was so sick of this day! This day that came once a year, one that would be over very soon.

Roger didn't seem to notice the bundle of emotions that flashed over my face at that moment. I shrugged it all off and reached into my pockets for my keys, the keys that would lead to my safe haven; not that my apartment was some lavishly furnished dwelling, but that being home meant that sleep could finally take me and bring about a new dawn, a dawn that would hide my birthday for an entire year to come.

"Everything ok man?" Roger asked.

I nodded at him, checking every pocket I had once, twice, then three times over. All my searches yielded the same result.

My keys were missing.

I gave the door handle a tug, just in case I'd forgotten to lock it again.

No such luck.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady my mounting frustration. "I left my keys at the club," I said calmly.

"What? Are you sure they didn't fall out of your pocket in the car?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said with as much assurance as I could muster at the time.

Roger looked at me skeptically, like he was trying to catch onto some riddle. "Hoooow can you be sure?"

I looked at him plainly. "Because it's my birthday and that would be too simple."

Roger refused to believe me and so I followed him out to his car as he searched every nook and cranny in his vehicle, refusing to give up his cursory inspection. He checked the cup holders, the glove compartment, even the trunk. These were all places in his car that I hadn't touched and I told him that, yet he was confident he could find what he was looking for.

Finally he crawled out of the car and threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright maybe they aren't in there, but where else could they be?" he asked.

The only other place I had done anything but stand, I knew, the place where I had partially undressed and reclined on a large bed that didn't belong to me. The place I had already mentioned to Roger.

"The club," I reiterated.

"Well it's not like we can go back there dude, the cops are there," Roger remarked.

Agitation was clearly stamped on my face at that moment. "Roger, you haven't done anything illegal. What's the problem?" I asked.

Roger pondered that question for a moment, then nodded and smiled to himself as a thought came to him. "It's bad to be seen associating with cops man, you don't want 'certain' people to get the wrong idea," he said, putting emphasis on that particular adjective.

I turned away from him and ran a hand through my hair, grabbing a handful of the sand colored strands and squeezing them into a ball. It was an attempt to vent my frustration at Roger's ridiculous claim. Of course it didn't work, but felt like the right thing to do anyway.

"Don't you keep a spare under the mat or in a flower pot or something?" he asked as he scanned the doorframe for some hidden compartment.

Normally, Roger's words would have driven me to further levels of frustration; something I thought couldn't be possible. However in this particular circumstance his words did ring true. There was indeed a spare key to my apartment; however that key lay in the hands of my landlord, the one who had been waiting for my rent money since last week.

I laughed, I actually laughed at the thought of what I now had to do. "Yeah Roger, there's a spare key," I said, motioning for him to follow.

A few minutes later we were outside the door to the landlord's apartment on the fifth floor. I had told Roger where we were and what we had to do; I had also told him of my current financial situation with the landlord, something I thought would weigh heavily against acquiring the spare keys. Yet even with all that information, Roger seemed confident that his plan would work. With every other option exhausted for whatever reason, I couldn't think of a reason to stop him.

Roger raised a hand to knock on the door.

"Wait," I said quickly. "What time is it?"

He pushed back the sleeve of his leather jacket and checked the time. "Eleven forty-nine," he answered.

"Maybe we should wait. Say, twelve minutes?" I offered.

Roger's eyebrows raised in unison. "You want to wait even later than it is now?" he asked, his voice full of skepticism.

I shook my head and motioned for him to continue, knowing that it wouldn't be worth it to explain the whole bad luck birthday deal.

Roger's knuckles rapped repeatedly against the door, forcing him to smile from ear to ear as he mentally prepared to play out his devised scheme. He looked at me and winked, a gesture that was supposed to assure me that I had nothing to fear.

I waited nervously, growing uneasy in the passing moments. The only noise in the entire hall was Roger's repeated knock and part of me wanted that knock to go unanswered. I didn't care about not being able to get into my room that evening; I just didn't want to face _him_.

The waiting continued as the seconds turned into the span of a few minutes yet Roger did not relent, he just kept knocking in the same three-two pattern over and over again. I thought for a second that the landlord might actually be out, that his room might be empty this night. However that thought was thrown aside as I saw the lights turn on underneath the door. I _felt_ more than heard the stomping steps the landlord's heavy legs took as they approached the door. Those steps sounded colossal, like they belonged to a giant.

An angry one.

The door flew open and in that doorway stood a short, heavyset man. A thick mustache coated his face while he sat adorned in a white wife beater. An antique gold chain hung from his neck and he stared at us with eyes that were still blinking away the sleep. He ran one hand atop his balding head while his other rested on a wooden baseball bat standing perpendicular to the floor.

"Vinnie… what the hell are ya doin'?" he mumbled, still looking half asleep.  
I moved my lips to reply but no sound came out. Roger must have taken this as his cue to begin his charade because he cleared his throat and offered me a quick nod before turning to the landlord.

"Mr. Geno Tartoni, I hate to bothers yas at this time of the night," Roger began in his best Italian mobster impersonation. "But me and Vinnie here, we's gots a problem."

Geno raised one eyebrow, seeming like he was asking himself if he really got out of bed for this.

Roger didn't notice, he never noticed anything, he just kept talking. "Ya sees, we were out with Tony and he was eatin' his submarine sandwich at Sonny's little pizzeria downtown…"

I dropped my forehead into my palm.

Roger turned and grinned at the notion. "And Tony, he didn't like the way Vinnie here was eyein' his broad, so he grabbed Ol' Sonny's cane and snapped that thing across little Vinnie's face."

"Whadda ya want?" Mr. Tartoni asked in a voice that still seemed clouded by sleep but in a tone that spoke that his patience was running out.

"Ya sees, when Vinnie went stumblin' back outta that chair, he must have dropped those keys o' his," Roger replied, never breaking character.

Geno Tartoni grabbed a key off a hook on the wall inside and tossed it to me. Roger tried to thank him, but Mr. Tartoni slammed the door closed.

Roger slapped me on the back and walked me to the elevator, giggling and gloating about his performance the whole way. I really did have a hard time believing it had actually worked, in fact I refused to believe it, thinking that surely the landlord would be at my door the following day, demanding the missing rent and scolding me about my ridiculous friend waking him up in the middle of the night; or perhaps he was just so tired that he wouldn't remember it at all.

When we did reach my apartment I immediately threw open the door, eager to get to sleep and get the whole birthday deal done and over with. I moved to lock the door but slowed down half way through. Before, I'd always locked the doors because I was worried that what few possessions I have might get stolen. Now, however, it seemed different, like I was in danger and that I did it not out of fear of losing my belongings, but in losing my very life.

What had brought on this feeling? I wondered. There didn't seem to be anything dangerous about tonight, what was responsible for creating this subconscious warning that I could feel but couldn't put my finger on? I shook my head to clear my thoughts and finished locking the doors, thinking it nothing.

Roger scanned the room, as if looking for something obvious but unable to find it. "Where's your couch at man?" he asked.

"I don't have one Roger," I replied, a little bit of that agitation creeping back into my voice.

"Well I can't exactly sleep on the floor," he remarked after his trademark giggle.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry Roger, _I'll_ sleep on the floor, _you_ can have the bed," I said. I didn't really care anymore; I just wanted to get to sleep. I knew I'd have to sleep on the floor in the bedroom anyway since that's where the alarm clock was located.

Roger and I got situated, him in the bed and me on the floor. Of course I only had one blanket and he couldn't sleep without it. He'd offered to share it, dropping half of it off the side of the bed frame in the hopes that it would cover me somewhat. I politely declined the offer, willing to go to sleep still wearing my clothes if it meant moving on to the next day.

"Hey Vinnie?" Roger asked while we both waited to fall asleep.

"Yeah Roger?"

"Happy Birthday man."

"Thanks Roger."

That night I seemed a little dazed, disoriented by some unknown cause. It was a fogged feeling, one that left every one of my senses dull and hardly dependable. I shook my head to try and clear it all, thinking that perhaps I just woke up in the wrong stage of sleep or something. I even squeezed my eyes shut and massaged my temples with the thumb and index finger of my right hand, still to no avail.

A muffled sound from the other room drew my attention, something that sounded akin to a lamp knocked off a table onto the carpeted floor. I quickly peered over the bed frame to confirm my suspicion. Sure enough Roger was still there, completely at ease in his deep sleep.

"Roger… Roger!" I said through my teeth, trying to keep quiet as I nudged his shoulder.

Roger's snore jumped in volume for just a second, making me cringe at the noise that broke the silence.

I got to my feet and slid along the wall, slowly making my way to the door. I was certain that I'd locked every locking mechanism on my front door, knowing that nothing short of blasting the entire doorframe would admit someone entrance. The intruder couldn't have gotten a spare key because I had the only one. Then one possibility struck me like an iron hammer.

My main set of keys was still unaccounted for.

The first reaction I had was to phone for help, however I couldn't really do that with the only phone out in the main living area.

I quickly scanned the room, looking for something, anything that I might be able to use as a weapon. My second reaction was probably more foolhardy than the first. I was a nineteen-year-old coffee shop cashier; there wasn't anything I could use to hurt someone in this room. I had a few clothes hangers and my alarm clock; now there was probably some Hollywood action film that had the hero taking on armies of assailants with those very objects, but it's not something I was willing to chance.

A muffled scream rose and fell in its pitch, like someone calling out for help.

That noise broke me. I don't know why, but I charged forward and threw the door open, prepared to do whatever I could for this helpless victim.

My bare feet skidded to a stop on the cheap carpeting and my courage melted away at the sight I now beheld. A pale woman in a sparkling red dress was hunched over a prone figure, cradling the head of her victim. Her back was towards me, but I could hear a crazed gulping noise, like this perpetrator was in the middle of devouring something in sheer ecstasy. The body below her seemed to be twitching in place, not putting up a fight of any kind.

I was frozen. I couldn't move, I couldn't even breathe. I fought to regain control, telling my body to move with every ounce of willpower I could muster.

It was all in vain.

Natasha dropped the figure she held and turned towards me. Her entire bottom jaw was dripping in blood and her eyes, those glowing red eyes, stared at me with a sinister intent, a predatory nature.

Oh how vulnerable I felt under that gaze! It was like I had no defense against it, like her eyes could bore holes into my very soul. All this and yet somehow I was able to look away, to look down at the body lying dormant on the floor. I gasped in horror as my mind registered the body's identity.

Candace's lifeless eyes looked up at me.

I could hardly stand; my knees felt like they would buckle. The poor girl's face seemed frozen in fear and her throat was a bloody mess, a sight that seemed to remove all hope that she might be saved from death.

Natasha must have noticed that I broke eye contact, however short the offense may have been, because she growled like a feral lioness and surged forward. She closed the gap between us in the blink of an eye, moving so fast that I never truly registered the action until she was face to face with me. There was no gentle side to her now, no mistake in her intentions. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head back with supernatural strength. Her mouth darted down to my neck and managed a triumphant smile, one of a victor who had been denied her prize in the first round. My eyes went wide and I tried to scream…

I inhaled deeply in shock and bolted up to a sitting position, grabbing at my neck throughout the whole ordeal. At the top of that sitting position I froze, taking in my surroundings. I was on the floor in my bedroom, exactly where I'd fallen asleep. The room was lit by the gray tones of an early morning, inspired by the sunlight peeking through the window in my living room.

I couldn't believe it. It was a dream! It was all a dream! I stood up and ran both hands through my hair, keeping them behind my head as I arched my back and chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation.

I turned around to face the end table, wondering what time it was, but the clock was missing. Following the length of the cord, I soon realized that Roger had the thing under the covers with him. I certainly didn't want to go fishing through the blankets for the thing so I woke him up with a few light slaps against his face.

"Whatever dude, whatever," Roger mumbled, still seeming unconscious to me.

I smacked him a little harder.

"Whoa dude what?" Roger nearly shouted, still keeping his eyes closed.

I laughed, more at the remembrance that my birthday was over than the humor in the current situation. "What time is it?" I asked through a smile.

Roger reached underneath the blankets, grabbed the clock, and thrust it straight up into the air, holding it at the end of his extended arm and squeezing his eyes closed the entire time.

I snatched it from his hand and looked at the numbers, waiting for my eyes to focus the green blur of the digital numbers. The time seven fifty-six stared back at me.

My thoughts froze. "Roger, did you mess with this thing at all?" I asked, hoping that he had changed the time whether it was knowingly or not.

"Yeah dude, the alarm was going off earlier, that thing is freaking loud man," Roger answered, sounding like he was ready to fall back asleep.

I sighed, it seemed like my birthday hadn't put an end to that bad luck after all.

After I had flew through my apartment in getting ready for my eight A.M. shift and silently thanked myself for not keeping my moped keys on the same ring as my house keys, I had all but set the record in getting to work, weaving in between cars as much as space would allow in the morning traffic and arriving at the coffee shop at seven minutes passed the hour. I walked in the back door fully ready to apologize to Candace for my tardiness, that is until I rounded the corner to see Ms. Ruther standing behind the counter in her place. She didn't seem happy at all to be wearing that apron and appeared on the verge of exploding. Her face flushed with the color of anger and I prepared myself mentally and physically for what was to come.

After receiving my scolding for the day, I had learned that Candace had called in sick (which just meant she hadn't recuperated from last night's festivities and was probably with Jake) and that Ms. Ruther was forced to fill in until that shift's relief, myself, arrived at eight. Of course she hadn't been pleased at all to wait the extra seven minutes it took me because of Roger's need for sleep.

As always, my job wasn't difficult. The cash register always complied and I never missed a key. Orders came and went as I processed them as fast as humanly possible, keeping the line of customers moving at a steady pace. Rolls, sandwiches, coffees, lattes, everyone had their preference and everyone received what they wanted. I was good at this and, fortunately for me, that meant the time passed rather quickly.

Four P.M. rolled around, signaling the end of my shift. Of course Ms. Ruther had me stay until four-o-seven before she permitted me to leave. With Jane's yoga practice sold, I had nothing to do after work other than head home so that's exactly what I did.

It rained again on the way back, like it usually did; however for some reason it didn't seem to affect my mood much. It certainly should have affected my mood, miserable as it was being wet and then chilled to the core by the wind, but it seemed normal, it seemed... inevitable. Maybe I had just finally gotten used to it, placing it in the category of things that were necessary until something in my life changed.

Change… that last thought held my attention for a while on the way back. There was a realization in that thought, an affirmation of the simple truth of my life. There was no change for people like me, nothing that would alter my course. Everyday would ultimately be the same, always rushing to work and slaving away behind that register until I was able to come home and start the process over again. Sure there would be things along the way, like last night's trip to the club and Natasha's ever-convincing actions towards me. These things might bring me off the path of repetition for a few steps but ultimately I'd just end up right back on course, destined to ride that moped to work and labor in that coffee shop until the end of my days.

Yet, there was a degree of comfort in this life, a degree of safety. If I focused only on myself, in simply getting to work and paying my bills, then I could avoid the possible torment of everything else. In separating myself from the random elements of the world, I could avoid so many things that cause people anguish every day. I could save myself from rejection, from further financial problems, from vain attempts to fit in with people I didn't share interests with. I could save myself from pain.

And what would that life be missing?

Much, I knew. I felt empty, hollow, and without a purpose. Even though only experiencing nineteen years of life I felt old, like life was quickly running its course and I had yet to experience a fraction of the joy this world has to offer. It didn't even have to be joy, for I would gladly experience sorrow over an existence void of any feeling at all.

I blinked suddenly, rapidly leaving my thoughts behind and focusing on the present. I was in the parking garage, in my parking spot, sitting on my still-running moped. I honestly had no idea how long I had been sitting there, but I had almost no recollection of the second half of my journey home.

I made my way into the apartment complex, walking through the empty halls. Yet, again, this walk seemed different than the other thousands of times I'd traversed this complex. There was a foreboding sense, some sort of paranoia that left me wary of the environment. All the closed doors stared back at me, acting like silent watchers.

I stopped a few feet from my door, interrupted by the sound of Roger's cackling laughter from within. Assuming he was laughing at his own joke, a joke he no doubt told to himself, I unlocked the door and stepped in. Roger was reclined on a couch with his feet set on a coffee table, all while watching the latest sitcom on television. He was doing all this, and yet I didn't own any of those three things.

"Roger…"

He didn't turn to look at me before answering. "Yeah, what's up?"

"What is all this?"

"All what dude?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the T.V.

"All _this,"_ I said, sweeping my arms out to take note of the couch, table, and television.

Roger looked at it all as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh, dude, was just some extra stuff I had lying around, you definitely needed it."

I chuckled at the situation. I had slowly started to learn that to question the things Roger did never really yielded the answer I was expecting.

This pattern repeated over the next few weeks. Everyday I'd come home from work only to find Roger had added another addition to the apartment. A lamp here, a poster there, he had even begun to assemble a decent DvD collection. I had asked him several times where he had acquired all this stuff, in the small chance that he might have obtained these goods illegally, however, Roger wasn't the stealing type, I knew, and so I just accepted whatever reason he ended up giving. One time it was that some store went out of business, another time it was that his grandmother had cleaned out her storage and had a rather large garage sale. All of his reasons seemed possible and so I never pressed it too far.

There was another trend that occurred during these few weeks, one that had nothing to do with my apartment but instead dealt with my workplace. Everyday I came in at eight A.M. like I usually did; ready to relieve Candace from her early morning shift. However for two straight weeks she called in sick, forcing Ms. Ruther to take her place. I began to wonder if it was serious, until one day I arrived to relieve a new employee from her shift behind the register. Ms. Ruther had then informed me that Candace had quit because of medical reasons and that she wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

That last statement really hit me. I had been working with Candace for three years now, back when we were still in high school. The only time I was ever able to see Candace was at work, even if only for a few fleeting moments each day. Her cheery attitude, her beautiful smile, everything about her just interested me, filling my thoughts as I endured the slow times at work. Yet, in the three years I had known her, I couldn't think of a single thing I had done for her. It's true I had taken a shift here and there, but I'd never _really_ done something forher.

What better time than now? I thought to myself.

During my break at work that day, I slowly made my way over to the file cabinet kept on the back wall behind the counter. As nonchalant as I could, I pulled the employee drawer out and began to finger my way through the files. My eyes darted back and forth from Ms. Ruther's office door to the names lining each file in alphabetical order. My vision focused in on her name as I spotted the file and pried it open just enough to see the address printed a few lines down. Franticly, I grabbed a pen with the other hand and proceeded to write the address down on the inside of my forearm, lacking a better option at the time.

The door to Ms. Ruther's office creaked open, reminding me I didn't have much time. I scribbled the final few letters down and then knocked the drawer in with my hip, leaning back against the cabinet just as Ms. Ruther came into view.

"Vincent," she said, staring at me with that accusatory stare.

"Yes Ms. Ruther?" I responded politely.

Her eyes squinted as she stared at me, like she was looking for something wrong. "Go ahead and finish stocking the shelves. After that you can take off early," she said, apparently not finding anything to fault me with.

I wasn't about to argue with that decision and I certainly wasn't going to stick around and give her time to change her mind. I flew through my stocking procedures and then bolted out the back door.

As always, my 4-stroke sat in its customary place around back. The blue moped began its metallic whine as I kick-started the thing and sped off in the direction of the nearest flower store. After all, what girl doesn't like flowers? I thought to myself.

I picked out a beautiful bouquet of rich red roses. I had originally thought to go for something fancier, but the budget of a coffee shop cashier didn't really allow it. I had lucked out in paying for them, having just enough cash on me to complete the transaction.

I looked down to my arm and confirmed the address one more time. It all seemed so weird. I'd work with Candace for all this time and never known that she'd lived so close. Her apartment complex was located a mere three miles east from my own. Not that that meant much, I never would have had the courage to pursue her even if I had known she lived close by. That thought had me questioning my current situation. What had changed between then and now? I mean sure I'd wanted to get her a "get well" present, but there was something more here, something bigger. I was taking a step that I wouldn't normally take, a move towards this girl I'd liked but never really approached.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts and parked my moped in her building's parking lot. Her complex wasn't that different from mine, save for the speaker system at the front door. I gave the door a tug with no result, held closed by some electronic lock. I pushed up one sleeve to check the address again, confirming the apartment number. Nodding to myself, I scanned the keypad for number nineteen and gave it a long push.

"Hello?" Candace's voice asked through the speaker.

She seemed to sound well enough. "Hey, Candace, it's Vincent," I said.

"Oh, hey Vince. I really can't talk right now."

"That's fine," I said, ever the one to give up quickly. "Listen, I brought you some—"

"Gotta go, bye Vince," Candace interrupted before clicking off the two-way speaker.

"—flowers," I finished with a sigh. This definitely wasn't going the way I had planned. I turned around and sat on the concrete steps, wondering where to go with this whole ordeal. The flowers still retained their exotic beauty, even after riding on the back of my 4-stroke. I can't just leave, I thought to myself, not yet. But what could I do? I pondered that thought for a few minutes, putting other people in my situation and wondering how they would act in my current predicament. Through that line of thinking I asked myself a question I never thought I'd utter.

What would Roger do?

I knew immediately what he would do and with no other option available to me, I set forth to do just that. I walked forward and gave number nineteen another long push.

"Hello?" Candace's voice echoed in the same tone as before.

"Hello my dear," I answered in my best old woman impersonation. "This is Mrs. Patterson, from the fourth floor, and there's the most beeeaaautiful bouquet of flowers sittin' here with your name on it. They was even kind enough to write your room numbah down, should I drop 'em off darling?"

I could hear her sigh through that smile that I knew she was wearing. "Yeah, just drop them off by the door, thank you miss!" she said, her voice returning to the personality I was used to hearing.

The door buzzed as Candace unlocked the complex from the pad on her side. I wasn't sure why she unlocked it, with my ruse played as a member of the complex already. Maybe she was just being nice? I thought.

I squeezed in through the doorway and made my way down the hall of the ground floor. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say when I saw her, nor of how she'd handle my little act of deception. Of course, I figured that a comedic approach would be the best course. Humor always seemed to lighten the mood, so I tip toed over to her door, set the flowers down, gave a few knocks, and flattened myself against the wall next to the door. I smiled to myself as I heard the locks being unfastened on the other side. When the door opened and her pale hand reached out to grab the bouquet, I made my move.

"Boo," I said as I jumped out in front of the door, a big grin on my face. However that grin quickly retreated when Candace came into view.

She was beautiful, more so than before. She wasn't just pale anymore; her skin was the color of polished marble. Every aspect of her physique seemed enhanced, like she'd reached an entirely new stage of maturity. Her raven black hair, which was usually tied back tightly, now flowed lustrously passed her shoulders. It wasn't these elements that stole my smile however, but her eyes, eyes that burned with a crimson fire, a blood red color that I'd only ever seen one other time.

All these thoughts went through my head in a fraction of a second. I didn't have time to think about that night at The Crimson Rose or the terrible nightmare that followed, for in that next fraction of a second I found myself soaring through the air into the room, hurled by an unknown force.

I watched the far wall get closer and closer, racing toward my face as reality fought to get my attention. Instinctively, I tucked into a ball just before my back collided with the wall. I landed on the floor with a hard thud, hardly registering what had happened. When I looked up to the wall, bits and pieces of dried plaster rained down on me from the crater I'd apparently made. My mind couldn't even register the pain, if there was any; I was still in complete and utter shock at what had happened to me. Nothing made sense.

I stood up, dazed, confused, and trying to orient myself with my surroundings. The room looked very simple; it was dark and sparsely furnished, containing only the basic elements of any apartment. I also noticed that the door I had entered (which was now closed and locked) was fifteen feet away, a distance I sure didn't traverse of my own accord.

A pale form surged forward, her body a blur as she closed the distance between us. I immediately fell victim to her iron grasp, helplessly being pinned to the wall. She bared her teeth and hissed, seeming more animal than human. I couldn't help but relate the scene to the dream I had had weeks before.

"Hey… Candace, I see you're getting better," I gulped.

She wrapped the pale fingers of one hand around my throat and slowly began to squeeze, twisting my head to one side.

"Candace… it's me… it's Vincent," I choked as my throat passages started to close.

Her eyes narrowed and she moved her mouth closer to my neck.

"Vin—cent," I choked again.

Candace visibly calmed after my second attempt. Her expression changed from one of primal hunger to one of profound sadness, as if just realizing the horrible act she was about to commit. She relaxed her hold and I dropped to the floor, only then did I realize that I was being held two feet off the ground. I rubbed at the skin around my throat and fought to steady my breathing.

Candace collapsed into a heap, visibly shaking as she started to weep. "Vince… I'm so sorry," she said.

I felt incredible sympathy for her at that moment. Even in light of the feats of strength she'd just displayed, she looked so helpless. The very image of her on the floor like that, hugging her knees as tears ran down her ivory cheeks, brought on an even greater sense of pity.

"Hey," I said kindly, kneeling down next to her. "It's ok. I'm fine, alright?"  
She scooted away as I got closer to her. "Vince, you really need to leave. I… can't control it," she said.

"Control what?" I inquired.

"It!" she screamed.

I got up slowly. "Alright," I said, patting the air with my hands. "I'm going to move away."

As she clamped her arms around her knees, I retreated backward towards the door one step at a time, slowly clearing the fifteen feet needed in the hope that moving slowly wouldn't spur Candace to her previous state of animalistic ferocity. When I felt my heel reach the front door, I slid down its surface to a sitting position on the floor.

"Is that better?" I asked.

She nodded quietly, still holding herself tightly in place.

"Now, tell me what's wrong. What'd the doctor say?"

Candace sighed, shaking her head. "Vince, there was no doctor, but… something horrible happened to me," she said, obviously having trouble getting the words out.

"What happened?" I asked in a careful tone.

She lifted her eyes so that they were level with mine. "Oh Vince, it was awful. That night at the club… Jake had taken me back stage to meet the other bands. Everyone seemed fine… except for the bouncers working back there. I just… I don't know. One moment I was at the punch bowl and the next one of those guys was up against me, holding me in place as he bit me.

"Vince, I can't even describe how much it hurt. I felt like my entire body was burning and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, all I could do was cry out and hope that it would go away."

Telling the story seemed to affect her physically. She seemed so weak, so incredibly weak. In that moment I pitied her, for whatever she'd gone through. It wasn't the story that evoked this feeling, I could hardly hear her words, it was the degree of helplessness she displayed.

"But _they_ were right," she continued. "The pain passed and when it did I felt great! I felt amazing! I felt like I could conquer the world!" she said through her trademark smile, the one I had been waiting to see.

"Well that's great right?" I asked. "So the doctors got you on a speedy recovery from… what was it you said you had?"

Her smile faded from existence entirely and was replaced by sheer sadness once again. "Doctors…" she stated more than asked.

"Yeah '_they'_" I replied, referring to the same _they_ that she had before.

"Vince there was no doctor, there was no hospital, I was never treated."

"Then who are you talking about?" I asked, completely confused.

She looked away for a moment before she spoke. "I'm not supposed to talk about them."

Now I was completely lost, it was like she was abducted by aliens or some secret government agency or something.

Her eyes all of a sudden went wide with shock and she was at my side in an instance. "You need to leave, I can hear them coming!" she urged.

I was half scared and still half confused. I'd never seen Candace as anything but a cheery person but during today's ordeal alone I'd seen every emotion on the spectrum. I did manage to struggle to my feet but was still unable to open the door, frozen as I was from one emotion or another.

"Vince please I'm begging you. If they find you here they'll do awful things. You're not one of us," she pleaded.

It was something about her tone that got me moving down the hall and out the main door to the parking lot, some hint of sheer dread that would spell horrible consequences if I remained there any longer. However even as I kick-started the moped and sped off in a westward direction, I had not missed the pronoun she had ended that last sentence with.

_You're not one of __**us**__._

I walked into my apartment complex from the garage entrance, still not having sorted out everything that had just occurred. I slapped myself a few times and blinked repeatedly, wondering if I was dreaming or something. Too much had happened today; way too much had happened, which was horrible for a person like me. You can't just take someone who is used to nothing at all happening and then thrust a world of confusion into their lives. I was surprised I hadn't spontaneously combusted.

The sound of the "new" television Roger had acquired signaled that he must be in his customary position on the couch.

"Roger," I called as I unlocked the door. "Today's been crazy, how about Chinese ehh?" I asked. In truth it actually wasn't that bad having Roger around. Work was never any fun but when I came home everyday I knew Roger would be there, performing one of his trademark activities.

I opened the door to find the couch empty and some black and white love story playing on the television. I knew the shower was running because the water pipes began to groan within the wall.

"Roger, ease up on the water when that happens," I called out as I shut and locked the door behind me.

I turned and tossed my keys onto the table, however my peripheral vision had me turning back to regard the unusual colors that caught my eye. There were things on my table that just couldn't be there.

The first was a single crimson rose.

The second was my original set of keys, the ones that had gone missing weeks before.

As if on cue, the shower turned off and the bathroom door opened. From within came a beautiful redhead wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her perfect form. Her hips swayed ever so slightly and her full lips turned up into that captivating smile.

"Ah, my Vincent, let's chat you and I," she said as she calmly made her way over to me.

At that moment I noticed her bouncer friend from the club come walking out of my room to take his place beside her. He towered above us both, closer to seven feet than six, and must have weighed over three hundred pounds.

I gulped, looking back down at Natasha, knowing that my problems were only beginning.


End file.
